


Cafuné

by Ariejul



Series: Alone in the Fallout [26]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: By the Campfire, F/M, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 21:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariejul/pseuds/Ariejul
Summary: Cafuné: the act of tenderly running one's fingers through someone's hair.Just a quiet night on the road between Charmer and Deacon.Takes place before the Fall of the Institute





	Cafuné

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> It's been a while since I've posted. My depression has kinda been kicking my ass lately, so I haven't really been able to write much. I am working on the next chapter of Desiderium, if anyone's wondering.
> 
> However, this idea struck me, and I liked it. So, here we go.
> 
> I have also been meaning to mention this! I'm on[ tumblr.](http://ariejul.tumblr.com) I've posted a few screens of Julia, as well as Shaun and Ellie grown up. Feel free to come check me out. 
> 
> Comments/kudos are appreciated and so loved! Seriously, it makes my day, guys!

Julia’s sitting by the campfire, watching Deacon stirring some sort of questionable soup they’ll be having for supper. She _should_ be excited for a hot meal, but honestly, the food looks disgusting.

He snorts, and she glances up to find him returning her gaze. Or so she assumes, with those shades still stuck on his face. It’s gotten so dark, she has no idea how he manages to see anything at all.

“What?” she snaps, turning away with her chin balanced in her upturned hands. Her elbows bite into the top of her knees but she doesn’t care.

“It isn’t going to be _that_ bad, Charmer. Sure, it looks disgusting, but I promise it’ll be delicious,” he says with a grin. It’s the sort of grin that might be hiding a lie. Or not. Julia still isn’t quite sure when it comes to Deacon. He has a questionable relationship with truth.

“Not sure I trust your promises, Synth Boy,” she snarks back, cutting her eyes over toward him in time to see him laugh. Julia smiles to herself; he has a nice laugh. _Really_ nice. Hell, if she’s honest, she’s having a bit of a love affair with his voice in general. She enjoys listening to his stories, regardless of how asinine because of it. Deacon surely knows, if she had to guess. He seems to know everything.

“Alright, alright. You got me. Dagger to the heart, by the way. But seriously, I don’t like eating shitty food, so I try really hard not to make any.” Grabbing a pair of chipped cups from his pack, Deacon dips up a serving and passes it to her. “Can’t promise it’s anything like your Old World feasts, but it shouldn’t taste like ass.”

Staring dubiously down into her cup, she blows on the hot soup until it’s cool enough to sip. The taste of it, while vastly different from anything she’s had before, is pleasant and slightly gamy. It’s reminiscent of the venison her father used to cook when she was young, back when he still hunted. Her eyes widen at the sudden rush of emotion those thoughts stir. Her gaze darts back to him.

Her companion is studying her with something akin to complete adoration if she dared name it, his own cup held limply in one hand, head casually tilted into the other. Something about him, sitting there like that just gazing at her with his knowing little grin, makes her think of Nate, and she swallows. Managing a small smile and hoping it’s dark enough to hide her reddened cheeks, she gestures to her cup. Her hands shake a little too much to not be noticed. “Sorry I doubted you. It’s… really good.” At least her voice is steady.

His grin slides into an expression of concern, and she avoids his gaze. “You okay there, Charmer?”

Staring down into her soup, Julia thinks about everything she’s lost. Doesn’t know if she’ll ever gain even a modicum of it back. It’s been months, and she still hasn’t gotten to Shaun. She still hasn’t been able to track down a Courser, and hope is starting to dwindle. How can she possibly answer his question? Because truthfully, she isn’t okay and has no idea if she ever will be again. “I’m managing,” she murmurs. She sucks down a mouthful of her supper and scalds her tongue on hot soup a moment later.

“Careful. It’s hot, y’know,” he chides softly, and all she can do is nod.

Taking her time, she finishes up her meal. Deacon offers her seconds, but she refuses. Regardless of the quality, her stomach still isn’t used to Wasteland food, and she doesn’t want to push it. The low bun twisted at the nape of her neck is a sudden irritant, and she reaches up to yank the hair tie out. With a quick shake, her long hair cascades half-way down her back. She wonders if she ought to cut it off. Long hair is at best an annoyance, and at worst a liability.

“Anyone ever told you your hair is really nice?” Deacon’s voice startles her, her gaze snapping up to him. He’s absently sipping his soup, and she can’t really tell if he’s looking at her. Every time she thinks she might have some bit of understanding of him, Deacon manages to throw her off kilter. She never expected him to notice or care about her hair.

“Not in a long time,” she replies. Combing her fingers through it, she tries to distract herself from the man across from her. He’s little more than a stranger and she never knows if the words he speaks are lies or truth, but Julia isn’t afraid of him. The sensible part of her is screaming to at least be wary, to listen to that bit of advice he’d passed off as a recall code _(you can’t trust everyone),_ but the longer she travels with her odd little liar, the more she _wants_ to trust him. Thinks she can. “Nate loved it. Always had his hands in it.”

He nods at that. “I can see why.” Setting his cup aside, he wanders over to her. “Want me to braid it for you?”

Her brows furrow together in confusion. “You braid hair?”

Deacon nods, chest puffing out with pride. “One of my many talents.”

Julia can’t help it. She starts laughing, shoulders rolling with it, her entire body doubling over, and by the time she can recover, she’s gasping for breath. Seeing the vaguely offended look on his face, Julia has to fight the urge to start all over again. “Sorry, Deacon. I just… didn’t expect it.” Turning her back toward him, she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Go ahead. I want to see what a master at work can do.”

She hears him exhale, the sound slightly off to her ears, but when she tries to turn to look at him, he tuts and readjusts her. Sighing softly, she relents and faces forward. His hands are gentle as he works, and surprisingly enough, he’s silent. Julia expected him to be the Chatty Cathy he always is. The quiet almost feels ominous, or at least awkward. “Where did you learn to braid hair?” she asks, unable to bear the silence a moment longer.

He falters, hands carelessly tugging her hair at the question, and she wonders if maybe she shouldn’t have asked. “A traveling gypsy. She taught me everything she knew with her dying breath. Want me to read your palm after?”

Obviously a lie, but Julia decides to drop it. It isn’t really her place to go nosing in his past, especially since he’s been kind enough to do the same for her. “I see. Was she a master of disguise, too?”

He chuckles softly, the tension seeming to ease away. “Maybe. Maybe not. Can’t go spilling all my secrets in one night.”

After, she doesn’t try to fill the silence, simply focusing on the gentle pressure of his fingers threading through her hair, nearly drifting off in his hands before he proclaims he’s finished. Julia digs through her pack, finding the remnant of a mirror she stashed and takes a look. Her brows shoot up as she twists her head this way and that. He wasn’t lying. The braid is a simple three strand pattern but expertly executed. She turns, beaming. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

His lips pull up in a lop-sided half grin, adjusting his sunglasses with a short nod. “No sweat, boss.”

Watching her partner move back across the firelight, Julia wonders just how many layers there are to the mysterious man she knows only as Deacon.


End file.
